“The show was a revue called Fun-Time Follies, at the Miner’s Bowery Theater. From what I could see it wasn’t as respectable as the theaters that were springing up around Broadway. Mr. Poindexter was clearly not the most upright of young men. After that it was merely a question of waiting for the right moment. I took my camera—a nifty little Brownie I had inherited with the business from Paddy Riley—and lurked near Mademoiselle Fifi’s house on East Twenty-first. Fortunately it was not too fa...r from Sixth Avenue, with its department stores: Simpson, Crawford & Simpson was on one corner and Hugh O’Neill on the other, so there was a constant stream of pedestrian traffic, which made me less conspicuous. I walked up and down with my shopping bag, pretending to be interested in shop windows, occasionally going into a baker to buy myself a bun. But Mr. Poindexter did not appear at all that day, nor did he visit the theater that evening. Since my camera did not operate in the dark and I had no kind of flash equipment, it made little sense to watch and wait outside Mademoiselle Fifi’s that night.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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